


An  Honour and a Privilege

by ByTheLightOfAThousandSuns



Category: Jack West Jr Series - Matthew Reilly
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-23
Updated: 2016-02-29
Packaged: 2018-04-23 02:55:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4860353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ByTheLightOfAThousandSuns/pseuds/ByTheLightOfAThousandSuns
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They say all great relationships stem from a place of turmoil. But how exactly do you go from hating each other to being friends without having a few mishaps along the way?<br/>A series of one shots from the period of 7AW through to 5GW. They run in chronological order but, as is the way with one shots, they do not necessarily all relate to one another.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ten Things I hate About You

Zahir Al Anzar Al Abbas had made up his mind the moment that he had shown up on the door step. He hated him.  
This was odd because Zahir had never really hated anyone in his life time. There were people that he disliked, people he didn't get along with and people which made him a little bit annoyed when he was near them. But there was no one that he could honestly say that he hated.  
So when Benjamin "Archer" Cohen showed up on the door step of the farmhouse, this new emotion had somewhat confused the usually jolly Zahir.  
If he was perfectly honest with himself he wasn't sure what it was about the Israeli which made him so profoundly dislikable. It could have been the overly smooth, calculated way he spoke, the near silent way he moved or the fact he seemed incapable of smiling. But whatever it was, there was little doubt in Zahir's mind that the two of them would not get along.  
That was why when the two of them were scheduled for patrol together one night, it was probably one of the worst things which had happened to Zahir since he had arrived in Kenya seven years ago. Late night patrol was bad enough; standing out in the dark and the cold for hours, staring off into the distance was not something that any of the team really looked forward to. Having to undertake this activity with someone who you couldn't stand? Zahir wanted nothing more than to drive his head into a solid wall.  
That night, Zahir settled himself down on his usual chair, gun resting over his lap, as he assumed his position looking out over the main road. The perimeter which was set up each night was only a few hundred meters from the house, with a clear view out over the bare plain. At random intervals one of the two people on patrol would do a slow walk around the perimeter, always making sure that there was no predictability to the routine. There was less chance of someone managing to sneak up on them that way.  
As Zahir gazed off into the distance, watching nothing in particular, he suddenly became aware of a presence behind him. One hand tightening on the handle of his gun, he turned quickly, only to shake his head when he saw Archer standing a few feet away. The Israeli tilted his head slightly, an almost amused expression hinting on his face.  
'You're jumpy tonight Arab,' he said softly.  
Zahir said nothing in reply, he just turned back to face the road and the main gate. He was aware that Archer was moving behind him, and heard a very slight thud as he perched on the bonnet of the range rover.  
Silence very quickly consumed the area, only broken by the occasional whistle of wind or the call of a nocturnal bird. It was almost suffocating, and very dull in Zahir's mind. Usually on these patrols the time would be passed talking or playing some kind of board or card game. Never anything that took up too much concentration, but something to make the hours pass a little faster.  
After one or two slow trudges each around the perimeter, Zahir had just about had enough of the silence. It didn't seem to be bothering Archer at all, he appeared more than happy perched on the bonnet of the car, only moving when it was his turn to walk.  
'Tell me, Israeli, when did you first learn to shoot?' Zahir asked quickly.  
He was a little disappointed when Archer just looked over at him calmly, as if he wasn't surprised at all by Zahir's sudden outburst. He shrugged nonchalantly, 'a while ago.'  
Zahir was quick to add Archer's ability to turn even the most open ended question into a closed one to his list of things which he disliked about the Israeli. But he wasn't deterred.  
'So I'm assuming you learnt at a young age? When you were still a child?'  
This time Archer actually looked over at him, 'that idea seems to confuse you. That I learnt how to handle one these,' he rested a hand on the long barrelled sniper rifle beside him, 'when I was still young.'  
Zahir shrugged, 'I do not see why it is a skill which a child would need. I did not learn how to handle weapons of any kind until I was a man.'  
Even through the darkness he could see one of Archer's eyebrows rise in a sceptical, almost annoyed manner, 'we don't all share your privileged upbringing Arab. Besides, it wasn't a skill that I needed to learn, it was a skill that I wanted to learn.'  
'My upbringing was not as privileged as you may think,' Zahir felt the need to defend himself on that matter.  
For the first time since he had arrived, Zahir heard Archer laugh. Almost instantly the cold, low, cynical sound was added to the list. There was no humour behind it, and it made the hairs on the back of Zahir's neck stand up from pure discomfort.  
'What is so funny Israeli?'  
'You were raised as the second son of the most powerful Sheikh in the United Arab Emirates. But you're still trying to claim that your upbringing was not that privileged. Are you self conscious of how you were raised Arab? You'll have to forgive me if I find that amusing.'  
Zahir glared at the infuriating man seated only a few meters away from him, 'you find others discomfort amusing? Perhaps I have misjudged just how heartless you actually are.'  
The expression on Archer's face did not change, save for the slight lift of one of the corners of his mouth into a snake like smile, 'I don't think you know enough about me to make judgements.'  
'Yet you seem to know everything about us.'  
'I work for Mossad. It's our job to know everything about everyone.’  
The statement was so matter-of-fact that Zahir could really think of no argument for it. After all, it was true. And there was no real way to argue with the truth. Instead, Zahir picked up his gun and stood. He wished to take no further part in this conversation. In fact, he hoped that he would never have to engage in a one on one conversation with Archer again.  
He would have to speak to Jack, he decided, to make sure that he would never be paired with the Israeli again for one of the night shifts. It probably wouldn’t end well for either of them if they had to sit through another night like that, they just weren’t going to get along. As he had said to Jack and the others many a time, while he had to accept that Archer would be staying with them now, it wasn’t something that he had to like.  
And Zahir didn’t like him.  
In fact, he totally and utterly hated him.


	2. 'Cause Haters Gonna Hate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stretch and Pooh-Bear steal a bus and disagree over even that.

‘A bus?’  
‘Yes, a bus.’  
‘He seriously wants a bright red, double decker bus?’  
‘Yes.’  
‘Why the fuck does he want a bus?’  
‘Israeli, is it really that hard for you to stop doubting?’  
‘I’m not doubting, I’m just asking why the hell he wants a bus. It’s not exactly the most inconspicuous get away vehicle.’  
‘Would you please just retrieve the keys? We’re operating on a time limit here.’  
Flashing the Arab an annoyed glare, Stretch shook his head at the overly exasperated tone as he slunk out from their concealed position by the gate of the compound. Given the time of day there were very few of the bright red tourist buses in the station, with most being out transporting slack jawed tourists from one end of the city to another. This also meant that there were only a few drivers and even fewer maintenance crews.   
While Pooh-Bear remained by the gate, supposedly keeping a low profile, Stretch slipped inside and made his way over to one of the buses. It didn’t take long for a driver to appear, still sipping something out of a flask and tossing the bus keys absently in the air. A quick, vicious elbow to the nose when he reached the bus sent him crumpling to the ground, and allowed Stretch to casually snatch the keys out of the air.   
‘Hope you weren’t overly attached to this thing,’ he muttered, stepping over the drivers unconscious body into the cab.   
Just as he was unlocking the door, he was joined by Pooh-Bear, who shook his head with poorly disguised disapproval when he saw the unconscious bus driver, ‘did you have to do that to him?’  
‘How else was I supposed to get the keys?’ Stretch shrugged, slipping into the drivers seat.  
Out of all the things which he disliked about the burly Arab, Stretch had to put Pooh-Bears constant second guessing at the top of the list. Despite the way he acted most of the time, Stretch was actually more than capable of knowing when a person did or didn’t like him. And the Arab wasn’t exactly trying to keep his profound dislike of him a secret.   
‘I’m sure there were less brutal ways,’ Pooh-Bear said simply, taking his seat directly behind the drivers compartment.  
‘Yes. But they would have taken time. And I do believe it was you who said only a few moments ago that we’re operating on a time limit,’ Stretch was quick to point that out to him, ‘can’t you just trust me for once?’  
It was a rhetorical, borderline sarcastic question, which had the desired effect of making the Arabs bushy eyebrows draw together in an irritated frown. Stretch smiled to himself as he drove, weaving casually through the traffic on his way back to the Louvre, Pooh-Bear made it far to easy to bait him sometimes. Even though he acted calm and happy most of the time, Stretch had learned very quickly that it didn’t take much to get under his skin.  
‘You know I don’t trust you as far as I could throw you,’ Pooh-Bear muttered.  
‘Shame, considering I doubt that you could even lift me.’  
‘Just drive.’  
‘I am driving.’  
‘Well drive faster then.’  
‘I’d like to see you make it through the streets of Paris any faster. Oh wait, you can’t drive a bus. I forgot.’  
‘How do you know how to drive a bus?’  
‘I’m skilled. Unlike you.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was mostly just a bit of fun, it really doesn't have much of a purpose other than I wanted them to argue about the logistics of bright red buses.


	3. I hate you, I hate you not...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pooh-Bear regrets not being more accepting. Stretch regrets being an asshole. Takes place just after the Hanging Gardens.

He had stayed with her.  
No matter how many times he tried to put that through his head, Pooh-Bear could just not seem to make sense of it.   
Stretch had stayed with Lily in that trap. He could have gone, surely he had been given the chance to run away with the rest of Avengers team. But he had stayed behind and he had somehow saved Lily, even though that meant that he was now Judah’s captive.   
That one action seemed totally and utterly against every preconception which Pooh-Bear held in regards to the Israeli. He had always imagined that, if Stretch was ever presented with a situation like that where he had to choose between running and staying, he would run. That seemed to be in character for him, at least in Pooh-Bears eyes. He had been happy to see him as a coward, as someone who would not have the teams back if they needed him.  
But the fact that he had stayed behind, when he could have gone, suddenly made Pooh realise that maybe, just maybe, he needed to readjust the way he looked at him. Of course this also got him thinking that perhaps he had been wrong about the other preconceptions which he held.  
‘By Allah, I’ve been a fool,’ he shook his head to himself as he came to that realisation.  
Thankfully he was alone at the back of the hanger of the Halicarnassus, and Jack was far too busy working on something on the main computer console to hear him, so he was able to internally berate himself without being noticed. He had always prided himself on being a non-judgemental, open person. His ability to accept just about anyone was always commented on as being his greatest quality, and this acceptance was something which had tried to put into practice every day. But with Stretch, he had allowed a cultural and religious feud, which really had nothing to do with either of them, cloud his judgement. He had done his best to see everything regarding the Israeli through a pair of already negatively tinted lenses, and in doing so had prevented himself from acknowledging or even seeing that he did indeed have some decent qualities.   
It was just so unlike him, so utterly out of character, that he was loathed to admit that he had been acting like that for years. But he knew that he had, and now all he could find himself thinking was that he hoped that both he and Stretch made it to the end of this mission alive so he would be able to at least try to make things right.  
…  
Stupid Americans.  
Stupid Avenger.  
Stupid mission.  
Stupid, stupid me.  
Stretch bumped his head back on the wall behind him as he thought, repeating the lines over and over in his head. Everything had gone to shit and he couldn’t help but think that it was all his fault. If that blasted, mother-fucking Israeli recon team hadn’t shown up then things probably wouldn’t have gone that badly.   
The American’s wouldn’t have the piece.  
The American’s wouldn’t have Lily.  
Zaeed wouldn’t have gotten away.  
He wouldn’t be sitting bound to support strut in an American plane, covered from head to toe in dried quick sand.  
And Jack and Pooh-Bear wouldn’t be stuck somewhere … or worse, in the middle of absolutely nowhere.  
If Avenger and his team hadn’t shown up, then none of that would have happened.   
Curling his legs in tightly to his chest, he rested his forehead down on his knees and heaved a deep sigh. It was his fault that Avenger had shown up. It was because of him that the American’s were now going to win this race.   
Internally he cursed himself, cursed his stupidity. He should have known about the chip. Or at least he should have suspected it. It wasn’t normal for Mossad to send agents out on such long and high risk missions without having some sort of insurance policy, a way of knowing where the agent was, even if contact was lost. Alarms bells should have gone off in his head when he received no complaint when his monthly reports back to the Masters ceased. He should have known then that they had another method of tracing him, another method which meant they didn’t mind when he no longer sent them reports, another method which meant that no matter what, they would get what they wanted and he wouldn’t be able to escape.   
Of course, Judah had had the chip seen to almost as soon as they boarded the plane, ordering Kallis to remove it. Stretch had actually only found out about the surgically implanted bug when Kallis had pulled out a small switch blade knife and promptly dug the tiny piece of plastic out of the back of his neck.   
A small dry laugh caught in the back of his throat as another thought floated into his head. Somehow he was going to have to explain to Jack and Pooh-Bear that he hadn’t intended to lead the Israeli team to them. Whenever he next saw them, although the rational voice in his head was telling him that they were most likely already dead and he would be as well very soon, he would have to somehow find a way to convince them that he wasn’t the filthy, rotten traitor that they thought he was.  
It was going to be very difficult to convince anyone of that when he was calling himself that in his own head.   
The hardest person to try to apologise to would be the Arab; most likely Pooh-Bear would not be interested in anything that he had to say. Unfortunately, it was Pooh-Bear that Stretch felt like he owed most of his apologies too. He owed him apologies, not only for fucking up the mission, but also for the unnecessary feud which had been ongoing since he had joined the team. Even though Stretch had told himself that he hated Arab from the moment they had met, that original mind set now seemed … wrong.   
For the first time in a very long time, Stretch now found himself wanting the approval and trust of someone other than his masters. He wanted to make up for his mistakes, he wanted to prove that he could be trusted.  
He didn’t want to think of Zahir Al Anzar Al Abbas as an enemy anymore.  
He wanted to think of him as a friend.   
But he would probably never be given the chance.


	4. Thank you... friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You can't expect a brand new friendship to be all sunshine and lollipops, but they do their best.

The inside of the Halicarnassus was dark and quiet. What remained of the team were all in the bunk rooms, catching up on much needed sleep from the past week. Even Jack was in his quarters, for once not staying up to look through notes or review plans.   
In fact, when Pooh-Bear eventually decided that he couldn’t sleep, he was fairly certain that he was the only one awake. Why he couldn’t sleep he had no idea. He was exhausted, sore and stiff and aching for a good nights rest. But no matter how hard he tried, he just couldn’t doze off. Potentially the eerie silence in the bunk room had something to do with it. Where it had once been shared by five people, there were now only three. The bunk which Noddy and Big-Ears had laid claim too at the very start of the mission, ten years ago now, lay empty except for the backpacks which lay abandoned on the mattresses. In reality, someone should have moved them by now, put them away, out of sight. But no one had really had the heart to touch them, not quite yet anyway.   
Sitting up in his bunk, Pooh looked around the darkened cabin. Fuzzy was sleeping peacefully, sprawled as always on his mattress, completely dead to the world. The other bunk, where Stretch usually slept however, was empty.   
Frowning, Pooh-Bear swung himself out of his bunk and headed out into the main cabin. All the lights were off, and the dull evening light from outside the plane did little to illuminate the way. It did allow him to make out a humanoid shape on the far side of the plane though. Stretch sat by one of the windows, perched on top of one of the desks, his knees drawn up to his chest. He didn’t seem to be looking at anything in particular, he was just staring blankly at the world outside.   
Carefully, Pooh-Bear approached him silently, well aware that his presence was probably unwanted. Assuming that the usually constantly alert Stretch already knew that he was there, Pooh-Bear took a second to think before he spoke softly.   
‘Are you alright?’  
Stretch jumped about a foot in the air with a surprised hiss. Given he was so precariously balanced on the desk, he would have fallen off had Pooh-Bear not quickly gripped his shoulders to steady him. Once he had righted himself, Stretch shot Pooh-Bear a deadly glare.   
‘Don’t do that again, Arab,’ he said sourly, before turning to look back out of the window.  
‘Sorry. I just assumed that you were already aware,’ Pooh-Bear shrugged, still standing awkwardly, ‘you’re usually very observant.’  
The Israeli didn’t move, and he stayed silent. After a long moment of standing, Pooh eventually decided to take a leap of faith and sit down. He settled down on the couch beside the desk, tapping his fingers against the fake leather. When there was no objection, either stated or implied, he relaxed a little more.   
After about fifteen minutes of silence, Pooh-Bear finally spoke again, repeating his earlier question, ‘are you alright?’  
‘Fine. Why do you ask?’   
‘You’re not sleeping.’  
‘Neither are you.’  
The blunt answers gave Pooh-Bear the inclination that conversation was not wanted, so he retreated into silence once again. Shifting around, he looked out at the window, at the dark purple clouds far below them, coloured by the sinking sun. Just above them, the faint pinpricks of light from the first evening stars were just visible, half obscured by the frost which coated the rims of the windows. The serenity of it was a little unnerving, especially after a week of none stop chaos.   
Lost in thought, he started slightly when Stretch spoke softly, ‘it’s the quiet isn’t it? That’s keeping you awake.’  
Looking up at him, Pooh-Bear saw that he was still staring out of the window, his hands tightly gripping the sleeves of his jacket. After a second he nodded, ‘I suppose it is.’  
‘But it’s not really the silence is it? It’s knowing what sounds should be filling it,’ still Stretch didn’t move.  
It Pooh-Bear a second to come up with a response, ‘we all knew the risks.’  
‘It doesn’t help though, does it,’ turning away from the window, Stretch looked at him closely.  
The dim light from the window shadowed his face in an almost ghostly way, highlighting the angular bone structure creepily. Sighing deeply, Pooh-Bear adjusted how he was sitting so he could face him properly.  
‘No, it doesn’t,’ Pooh tiredly rubbed his eyes, ‘in fact, sometimes I think that it almost makes it worse. We knew the risks, but all the same, we were helpless. We had no way of stopping it, even though we should have known to be more careful.’  
Blinking a few times, Stretch suddenly turned away from him, gazing back out the window intently. A little confused, Pooh-Bear waited a few moments before he spoke again, this time a little cautiously.   
‘It’s more than the silence keeping you awake though,’ he said softly.   
In all honesty, he hadn’t expected a response. When Stretch actually answered him, it surprised him. Keeping his eyes locked on the window, this time as if he was purposely avoiding Pooh-Bear’s gaze, Stretch’s hands fiddled with the cuff of his jacket sleeve as he spoke softly.   
‘It’s my fault we almost failed.’  
Confused, Pooh-Bear cocked his head slightly, ‘I’m sorry?’  
‘In the Hanging Gardens. It’s my fault that we didn’t get that piece. We were so close, we could have grabbed it and been gone before Judah arrived, but because of me, well…’ he trailed off.  
Raising his eyebrows, Pooh leaned forward in his seat, ‘what happened there was not caused by you. Judah already knew about our location. Having Avenger show up made no difference. We would have lost that piece regardless.’  
Shaking his head, Stretch went to speak again, but Pooh cut him off, ‘answer this for me. Did you know about the chip?’  
‘No,’ Stretch said defensively.  
‘Okay. Did you know that Avenger was coming?’  
‘No.’  
‘Did you contact the Americans at any point?’  
‘No,’ that one was even more defensive than the last two.   
‘Well then, can you honestly explain to me what was your fault?’ Pooh-Bear asked expectantly.   
Stretch just looked him up and down for a while, eyes narrowed, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Eventually, he resigned and sank back, saying nothing.   
Satisfied, Pooh-Bear nodded, ‘exactly.’  
‘You’re very forgiving considering I almost got you killed,’ Stretch frowned slightly.   
Shrugging, Pooh-Bear went to stand, a sudden wave of tiredness rushing through his brain, ‘that’s something friends are very good at doing.’  
Stretch smiled softly, nothing more than a slight upturning of the corner of his mouth. But it was one of the first genuine smiles Pooh-Bear had seen from him, so he went with it. Heading back towards the bunk room, he turned on an after thought.   
‘Seriously Stretch, cut yourself some slack,’ he said, ‘and make sure you get some sleep. You look like hell.’  
‘Sure thing, Pooh-Bear,’ Stretch seemed to stumble slightly over the last two words.  
Shaking his head slightly, Pooh-Bear kept his laugh to himself as he disappeared back into the dark sleeping quarters.


	5. Hide and Seek

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bad news is met with patience, offers of help and odd hiding places.

The distant crash of waves against rock echoed dully in the clear night air, a mere dull roar amidst the vast silence of the ocean and the farmland which surrounded O’Shay farm. A chill breeze blew in over the headland, causing the long grass to ripple, ghostly pale in the clear moonlight. A few stars glittered in the sky overhead, almost fully visible given they were so far away from the bright lights of any city.   
But Pooh-Bear wasn’t outside for the view. As he stepped down off the wooden veranda which rimmed the farm, out onto the soft earth, he took a final glance back at the warmly lit windows. The celebrations of their victory were still on going. Through the glass he could see the figures of his team mates, Zoe, Fuzzy and Wizard, mingling with the other guests, retelling in detail the events of the last ten years. Lily was centre of attention of course, with every one still wanting to question the little girl on the vital role she had played in saving the world. Really he should have been in there with them, standing by his fathers side, chiming in with information here and there if needed. But he had a purpose out here as well.   
Stretch sat a little way out from the house, perched on the dry stone wall which rimmed the property. He was staring at something held in his hands, but he looked up when he heard Pooh-Bear approaching.   
‘What are you doing out here?’ Pooh-Bear asked as he stepped up alongside the wall, ‘your delegation left an hour ago. Why didn’t you go with them?’  
For a second Stretch didn’t reply, his hands simply tightened slightly around a sheet of paper. Eventually he spoke in a bitter tone, ‘I can’t.’  
‘Why?’ Pooh frowned.  
‘They took my passport.’  
‘I’m sorry, I’m a little confused, why would they do that?’  
While he was expecting a glare, or some withering death threat, all he received in response was a tired sigh, ‘So am I.’  
After a second of silence, during which Stretch seemed to be thinking long and hard, Pooh saw him hold something out. It was the piece of paper, crumpled and a little torn along the folds, as if Stretch had been gripping it hard. Cautiously Pooh took it and opened it. In the dim light he could barely make out the words, but he could clearly see the symbol of Mossad embossed in the corner.   
‘What is it?’ he asked, squinting at the words, trying to make them out.  
Stretch’s voice was icy cold and dripping with venom, ‘a polite notification from my superiors, informing me that because of my treasonous actions on this mission, I am now persona non grata.’  
‘A what?’  
‘Unwelcome person,’ Stretch muttered through gritted teeth.’  
Pooh looked down at the letter again, and sure enough, he could just make out those words. His brow furrowed, ‘what does that mean?’  
That question, despite its relative simplicity, seemed to trigger an outburst of anger as Stretch stood and snatched the paper back, ‘it means I can’t go home. I’ve been banned from entering my own country ever again, because I decided that my loyalty to you and Jack was more important than my Masters, I can never set foot in Israel again.’  
Before Pooh-Bear could say anything else, Stretch turned and stalked away, scrunching the letter up as he walked, before tossing it as hard as he could into the long grass. For a long moment Pooh just stood there, confused and shocked, before he hurried out into the field, brushing aside the grass to pick up the ball of paper.  
Stepping up into the light of the house, he carefully opened it up again so he could read it properly. A few words jumped out at him, treason, criminal, category five enemy, bounty. Most of the terms he didn’t understand, but he was quick to grasp the gist of the letter. Folding it up, he tucked it into the pocket of his shirt and headed inside, considering whether it would be a good idea to talk to Zoe and Fuzzy about this. They were a team after all, and Fuzzy had proven to be very adept in situations like this. But he just couldn’t shake the feeling that Stretch would not appreciate him talking to them when he didn’t fully understand the problem.   
He shook his head to himself, ‘oh I can’t believe I’m about to do this,’ he muttered.  
It took him almost another hour to find Stretch again, searching through every room individually, every potential hiding place. In the end, it was a complete fluke. He had been staring at the ceiling in exasperation when he had caught sight of a foot dangling from one of the beams. Shifting where he was standing, he saw Stretch curled in the rafters, mostly hidden by shadows. For a second, Pooh completely forgot why he was there, his surprise at the odd hiding place taking over.  
‘How did you get up there?’  
‘How did you find me?’ Stretch replied grouchily.  
‘Patience,’ Pooh shrugged, ‘can you come down so we can talk?’  
‘Fuck off.’  
‘My friend, please. I want to help.’  
‘I said, fuck off,’ Stretch growled, ‘just leave me the hell alone.’  
Pooh didn’t budge. He pulled out the letter and held it up, ‘what does category five enemy mean?’  
‘You just can’t help yourself, can you?’ Stretch spat, ‘you have to know everything, always pretending to care-’  
‘I do care,’ Pooh-Bear cut him off, ‘and I want to help, if you would just tell me what this means.’  
In one fluid movement Stretch leapt down off the rafters, his glare so toxic Pooh almost regretted coming to find him, ‘fine, if you’re so fucking desperate. It means that I have to spend the rest of my life running and hiding as I’m hunted by every Mossad agent and bounty hunter under the sun. It means that one day when I’m caught, and I will be eventually, I’ll be dragged off to some living hell where maybe I’ll be killed, but more likely I’ll be tortured every day until I die as a result. This is the worst possible punishment Arab, the one label that you really don’t want next to your name. In the next few days a bounty will be put up on my head, and who knows how much it will be. When that happens, I’m screwed. So tell me, Zahir, how exactly do you propose to help me?’  
Silence filled the room as Pooh stood still, stunned, struggling to figure out exactly what to say to that. For the first time in a long time no words of comfort came springing to mind, he was left totally blank. The letter hung limply in his hand, seeming impossibly heavy for a piece of paper now that he knew exactly what was written on it.   
At last he did speak, the only words he could think of, even though he was sure it would just make things worse, ‘I don’t understand why they would do this.’  
Across the room, Stretch sat down heavily, the anger dissipating quickly, being replaced by what Pooh could only describe as defeat, resignation and pure misery. Stretch’s shoulders slumped and he hung his head, ‘neither do I.’  
His voice cracked a little as he spoke, and he quickly took a shuddering breath as if to calm himself, resting his head in his hand. Slowly, Pooh came to sit beside him, and carefully placed a hand on his shoulder. Stretch flinched and looked up at him sharply, surprised by the contact, but didn’t protest, simply closing his eyes and turning away.   
‘I don’t know what to do,’ he whispered.  
‘I do,’ Pooh said gently, ‘you stick with us. We’ll help you as much as we can.’  
‘But Mossad-’  
‘Do you honestly think Zoe cares? Or Fuzzy? Besides, Lily would take down any assassin with ease if they tried to get to you,’ Pooh tried to smile reassuringly, but all he received for his efforts was a despondent glance, ‘listen, we’re a team. And team members look out for each other.’  
Stretch still said nothing, having seemingly lost the energy after his outburst, but a small nod told Pooh that what he was saying had been understood. Clapping him on the shoulder lightly, Pooh stood, coming to a decision about what the Israeli needed, namely being time alone to process what was happening. He placed the letter beside Stretch; it was his business, he could deal with it how he pleased.  
‘You won’t try anything stupid will you, if I leave?’ Pooh asked as he stood upright.  
There was a head shake and Pooh turned to go. Just before he reached the door though, he was hit by a sudden thought, ‘my friend, have you ever been to Dubai before?’  
The oddness of the question made Stretch raise his head, ‘no.’  
‘Then I think it is time we changed that.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was so hard to write. But, got it done in the end thankfully.


	6. Chalk and Cheese

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scimitar appears to pay his brother a visit after his return. Things do not go too well.

Under the sweltering Dubai sun, down in the well maintained garden of estate, a single gun shot rang out. On a plain stretch of earth, far from a large house, a human shaped dummy remained upright, not even disturbed by the bullet which had gone whizzing by a few seconds ago.   
Standing a fair distance away, Pooh-Bear lowered his rifle in annoyance and frowned at the far off dummy. He couldn’t understand why this was so hard. His aim had always been decent over short distances, but for some reason he struggled as soon as the target was a little further away. It had always been his main weakness, one which he compensated for by his vast knowledge of explosives.   
Sighing he was about to put the rifle away and head back to the house when he became aware of a presence behind him. This time though, it was not a surprise that made him jump as he turned to face Stretch who was once again perched on a dividing wall, watching in curiosity.   
‘Working on your aim?’ Stretch inquired, no malice hinting in his voice at all.  
‘Attempting to,’ Pooh shrugged, ‘I’m afraid it has always been my main weakness.’  
‘Seemed alright on the capstone mission.’  
‘Short distances I can handle. The guns on the Halicarnassus are easy to operate. But something like this,’ Pooh jerked his chin at the dummy, ‘I cannot do.’  
‘Would you like help?’  
Pooh was caught a little by surprise at that statement. It had probably only been a few weeks since he had arrived home with Stretch as his guest and those few weeks had been painfully awkward at best as the two tried to get more used to each other. As such, interactions like this always seemed to catch both of them off guard.   
With a small smile, Pooh shook his head, ‘no, I can do it myself. Thank you.’  
In a way it was supposed to be a dismissal of sorts, but Stretch remained where he was, watching but not interrupting as Pooh took aim again. Several missed shots later though, and sick of the intent gaze behind him, Pooh spun to face him. At first he had honestly wanted to ask him to leave, but as he opened his mouth there was a last minute change of mind which he almost didn’t register.  
‘Very well,’ he muttered, ‘what can you do to help?’  
It was as if Stretch had been waiting for this as he sprang to his feet, crossing to Pooh’s side quickly, ‘well you’re standing all wrong for one thing.’  
Before Pooh could really get a grasp on what was happening, Stretch had set about literally repositioning his body. None too gently his head was gripped on either side and turned slightly, his shoulders were pushed down, elbows bent and his feet were kicked into a different stance. As he worked, Stretch spoke, not so much explaining as telling Pooh-Bear what he had been doing wrong.  
‘You’re shoulders are too high. And you’re head is all wrong. Not to mention you are way to tense. Relax,’ as if to emphasise this, Pooh felt as Stretch gave him a sharp prod between the shoulder blades, as if this would cause him to loosen up.  
‘I hardly think I would be relaxed in combat,’ Pooh muttered.  
‘You also wouldn’t be as tense as you are now,’ Stretch said rather absently as he adjusted Pooh’s grip on the gun, ‘okay, now try.’  
Doing his best not to roll his eyes, Pooh did as he was told, taking aim and firing at the far off target. This time the bullet hit the target on the edge of the chest. Not quite where he had been aiming for, but far closer than any of his previous shots had been. He smiled slightly, pleased.   
‘See, wasn’t that better,’ Stretch nodded in what was pretty close to approval, ‘now, if we just adjust this…you should be all good.’  
Stretch went back to shifting his right arm, focusing on the bend of his wrist and elbow, one hand braced against his shoulder to stop it from elevating. Keeping still, Pooh-Bear humoured him until suddenly, someone else spoke from just behind them.  
‘I trust I am not interrupting something important, Zahir.’  
At once Pooh had discarded the gun and spun to face the person who was speaking. Standing a few meters away, arms folded, face creased in confusion, was his older brother, Rashid Al Anzar Al Abbas. This was the first time Pooh-Bear had seen him since he had arrived back from the capstone mission, and he wasn’t surprised to see that Rashid had not changed at all in the past ten years. He was still as confident and self-assured as he had always been and his face, which many described as handsome, was still the same, even down to the slight disapproving furrow of his brow.  
‘Rashid,’ Pooh-Bear greeted, ‘I thought you were not due back for a few more days.’  
Smiling tightly and formally, Rashid stepped forward so he was closer to where Pooh-Bear was standing, ‘I finished early and thought it would be fitting to call in on my little brother whom I haven’t seen in ten years. Although I had not expected you to have… company.’  
Those last words had Pooh turning slightly to see that Stretch was still hovering a little awkwardly beside him, studying Rashid as if he was trying to make some kind of assessment. Sensing the tension which had already started to build up, Pooh placed a hand between Stretch’s shoulder blades and propelled him forwards a little way so he was standing in front of Rashid. Stretch let out a small startled objection, shooting Pooh-Bear a glare before he gathered himself and smiled politely at Rashid.   
Pooh started the introduction formally, well aware of how his brother preferred meetings to go, ‘Rashid, this is my friend Benjamin Cohen. He was part of the team on the capstone mission and is staying with me for the time being.’  
‘I see,’ the look on Rashid’s face told Pooh that his brother was not overly impressed with the man he had just been introduced to, ‘and is there a particular reason you invited an Israeli to stay with you?’  
Turning to look at Pooh-Bear, Rashid completely ignored Stretch, as if acknowledging his presence any more than he had to was beneath him. Thankfully Stretch didn’t comment on this, although Pooh did notice his eyebrows raise in an almost disbelieving manner when Rashid’s back was turned to him. As discretely as he could, Pooh gestured for Stretch to step back while he explained.   
‘There were issues which arose on the mission. Currently he is unable to return home for various reasons so I extended the offer for him to come here.’  
This didn’t seem to be a satisfactory reason for Rashid, who just cast a look behind him, ‘no one else in your team of small nations extended a similar offer?’  
‘They did,’ Pooh-Bear was well aware that invitations had been extended by every member of the team when they had found out, ‘but I was most insistent.’  
His brother still didn’t seem too happy with this response, because his frown deepened into one of profound disappointment, ‘and why would you be insistent for a Jew to come here?’  
‘Because he needed somewhere to go and I could not, in good-conscience, leave him, given the current threats to his safety ,’ Pooh-Bear said simply, making sure his tone implied he wished to take the conversation no further.   
Something that did not escape Pooh-Bears notice during all this, was that his brother had slipped into Arabic at the start of the conversation, obviously not intending for Stretch to overhear what was being said. Internally he shook his head, because even though he knew what his brother was like with these matters, it always disappointed him whenever he demonstrated his ill-concealed prejudice. For his part, Rashid had stepped back a little way, sighing deeply in exasperation as he shot Stretch a sideways look.   
‘Does father know?’ Rashid asked at length.  
‘Yes,’ Pooh-Bear said, ‘he held no objections.’  
It was those words which seemed to signal an end to the topic for Rashid, for while he questioned Pooh-Bear to no end with his choices, he never openly crossed their father. Forcing a tight smile, Rashid inclined his head stiffly to Pooh-Bear.   
‘I’ll take my leave now. I am most happy to see you have returned to us safe and sound.’  
With that, he turned on his heel and left. Pooh-Bear watched him go, slightly relieved although he would never have liked to admit it. Those kinds of interactions with his brother were not something he enjoyed, particularly when Rashid was in a disagreeable mood.   
‘He seemed pleased to see you,’ Stretch spoke up from beside him, watching Rashid go with folded arms.  
Pooh frowned when he caught the sarcastic tone and turned to him, ‘what do you mean?’  
‘Well, if that had been my brother seeing me for the first time in ten years you can be sure it would not have been as formal as that. There would have been hugs all around,’ even though his tone sounded flippant, Pooh saw a brief flicker of what looked like sadness cross his face, but it was gone before he could confirm it.  
Picking up the gun from where he had put it aside, Pooh began to pack up, intent on heading back inside. As he packed it away, he spoke, ‘Rashid is simply very formal. He is not one for outward displays of emotion or affection.’  
‘He seems like a real dick.’  
At once Pooh had discarded what he was doing and whipped around to face him, ‘what did you say?’  
‘You heard,’ Stretch shrugged, ‘what? Don’t you think so?’  
Pooh-Bear was flustered. Of course he knew that his brother could sometimes be arrogant and perhaps even unpleasant towards some people, but all the same, he was family. And Pooh-Bear had never been anything other than loyal to his family. He went to rebut Stretch, to tell him to take back what he had said, something that he had always done whenever anyone had dared insult his family. But this time, perhaps for the first time, he hesitated a little. Not a lot, it was only for a brief second, but it was long enough for him to register that he could understand where Stretch was coming from. That perhaps he might have even, just slightly, agreed with the sentiment. But then that moment passed and he found his voice.   
‘He is my brother. Please remember that,’ he started up towards the house, ‘we simply have our differences, that is all. I ask that you respect my family while you are here.’  
There was no response for a while, before finally a small sigh of, ‘of course.’  
Pooh smiled, ‘and I will make sure that he honours you as well. You are my friend after all.’  
Those words had Stretch blinking at him in confusion, as if he had totally forgotten that. Then he smiled slightly and fell into step beside him, ‘thanks Pooh-Bear.’  
‘My pleasure.’  
They walked in silence for a few minutes until Stretch muttered, ‘he’s still a dick though.’  
This time Pooh did not argue with him, he just allowed himself to smile and clapped him on the back, ‘just keep that thought to yourself when he is around.’  
‘It’s me. I can’t promise anything.’  
‘I know.’


End file.
